


seven minutes to regret.

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 1k worth of (poorly written) angst, Angst, Character Death, Drowning, Flashbacks, I apologise in advanced to everybody, M/M, Suicide Attempt, What Have I Done, but i tried, i wrote this at 3am, it's short as shit, its very vague, like it's not v descriptive, seven minutes after death theory, so looking from the tags you can probably guess what this is, successful suicide attempt tbh, theres so much angst, this story is as boring as Ben winston's ideas, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 20:03:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2594675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's fucked up and now he has seven minutes to regret his actions as he sees the aftermath of his choices unfold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	seven minutes to regret.

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted to do my take on the theory about your brain still functioning for seven minutes after you die and like what happens during that and this monstrosity came out. 
> 
> it's rushed and not at all descriptive. it's actually very vague and doesn't talk about why there's s suicide attempt in the first place. all i managed to do was focus on the theory itself and yeah.
> 
> good luck ??

They say when you die, your brain stays functioning for about seven minutes. There's been a lot of speculation on what these seven minutes consists of. Many say that you have an out of body experience. You're whole entire life, leading up to the moment of your death, flashes before your eyes. Or maybe your soul detaches from your body to make its rounds to see the people you care about the most one last time and bid your own kind of farewell. Whatever it is that happens to you and your brain during those seven minutes after your heart stops beating, he was about to find out.

He thrashed about in the open sea, flailing his arms and trying to stay afloat. ' _More oxygen_ ' was all he could think of. But the thing was, he didn't want oxygen. He wanted his body to lack it. That's the whole point of trying to drown yourself. Cut off the oxygen supply and inevitably end up killing yourself. It hurt though, of course. Every fibre and every muscle of his being was straining. It felt like he was burning and on fire while ironically, being underwater. 

He tried to calm down and just let the water soothe him, take care of him but his body's reflexes wouldn't allow it. So he had to endure. He couldn't open his eyes anymore and all he could gulp in was water. Soon enough all he could breathe in was water too, setting his lungs on fire. It was agonizing, the whole entire experience was. But he tried to convince himself that in the end, all the pain would be worth it.

He could slowly feel himself slipping away from consciousness. He can feel the slow drag of life being taken away from him and it felt good. All the burdens, pain and hatred he'd been carrying were finally lifted off him and it felt so, so good.

But suddenly he felt something grab him. A hand pulling him away from the comforting lull of the waters. The strong grip dragging him into shore, trying to shake him back to consciousness. If he tried hard enough, he could hear the pained sounds the person was making, all the choked encouragements to will him to cling on to the last few moments of his life.

But he was tired of hanging on. He just wanted to let go.

He recognizes the voice. It was the one that sang him back to sleep at night after he gets nightmares. It's the one that often serenaded him as if the other few hundred thousands of people who were there to see them perform weren't there. It was the voice that kept him grounded. The one that encouraged him, comforted him throughout the key points of his life.

What he doesn't recognize was the amount of pain and desperation that tainted the voice. It felt so out of place. Such a sweet and kind voice shouldn't be tainted with those kind of emotions.

And at that moment, Louis wishes that he wasn't literally on the very verge of dying. 

"Louis!" The gentle but firm hand shook his shoulders. "Louis, please! P-please wake up. Don't do this to me, please."

He felt a pressure against his chest and soft tickling of hair on his neck. He could feel the lips moving against his chest and hands clasped tightly on his shoulders, never wanting to let go.

Choked and wrecked sobs filled his ears, "Louis please wake up. B-baby come on, wake up! I need you. _I love you so fucking much._ "

Louis kind of wants to cry too. But he can feel it, his life slowly draining away from his veins. So he lays there with his lover's head rested against his chest, resigned to his fate.

 _Why do I feel so fucking guilty?_ He thought to himself. _I wanted this. I wanted to die. He shouldn't have to see this._  

Louis can feel himself slipping away.

_I'm so sorry, I love you too._

The last thing he felt was a soft and gentle pressure against his lips.

 

Louis didn't know what to expect when you die. One moment everything was blank, he saw nothing, heard nothing and felt nothing. And the next, he could see a blurry and faint outlines of people moving. Memories.

 _Heh, so you're life does flash before your eyes_ , he thought bitterly.

On the first and second minute, Louis sees his childhood. His mum lulling him to sleep, his sisters and him playing about, his first kiss, first girlfriend. He sees his first major fight with someone and was struck with all the same emotions he felt then. He sees those hard times where his dad left and his mom had to fend alone. He sees him having to grow up fast to help his mum and his sisters pull through. He sees all those times where he cried himself to sleep all alone in his bedroom wondering when he'd (ironically) be able to breathe properly again.

The second and third minute, he sees all the people he fell in love with in different stages of his life. It starts with his first infatuation. When he thought he was in love, and realized how undoubtedly crazy he was. He remembers how everything felt. The day he realized that he wanted to be together with this person. The years of heartbreaks and smiles and trust. 

And then goodbyes. And then moving forward.

He sees the period of time where he stayed alone, thinking he didn't need love and swearing to himself that love didn't exist.

But then he found someone else. Harry. He tells him his deepest, darkest secrets. He told him things that he has never told anyone. The things he was scared to say, afraid that people would judge him.

The third and fourth minute, he remembers lessons. All the big lessons he’d learned. He doesn't remember those silly lessons from school where he learnt about the World War or how to find the surface area of a cylinder. He remembers practical lessons, the meaningful ones.

Lessons on confidence.

Lessons on self-acceptance.

Lessons on heartbreak.

Lessons on trust. 

Lessons on friendship. 

On the last two minutes he sees himself. He sees himself lying on the shore of the sea he drowned himself in. He sees Harry clutching on his body for his dear life, crying for something that's already lost. He stands over his mortal body, over Harry, and a wave of guilt and regret hit him. He tries to reach out, to touch his loved one, comfort him. He can't, it's too late.

Louis looks up to see three other figures coming closer. Niall, Zayn and Liam. They're rushing towards Harry and his body. Upon sight, Zayn lets out a scream of anguish and falls on his knees, tears spilling from his eyes. Liam falls next to him, hugging Zayn. They cling into each other for comfort. Niall kneels down beside Harry as silent tears fall on the sand. The Irish man reaches out to fix Louis’ damp hair. At least his body’s. 

Finally, Zayn looks up and for a moment he stared right through Louis. The actual Louis, the ghost Louis. Zayn stares right through him and rasps out the same thought running through his head.

“Oh, Louis, _what have you done?_ ” 

And the seven minutes was up.

**Author's Note:**

> IM SORRY IM SHIT. -(@heartlouckets on twitter)


End file.
